


Chocolate Pieces and Stolen Items

by KarenHikari



Category: Descendants (2015), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Chapter three has rape, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarenHikari/pseuds/KarenHikari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because, sometimes, love is the only thing that can set a prisoner free or make him hope upon said freedom. From AU's to Hurt/Comfort after Humor and dorky-sweet Romance, here you have my participation for the Jaylos Week!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fortuitous Event

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are! Starting off with the Jaylos Week after more than a month (a very, very busy month, let it be said) of planning and writing and putting things together and everything. Hopefully, this won't crash and burn and you'll get to enjoy it! Just so you know, this is the first event of the kind that I will participate in.
> 
> Also, for all of you who don't know me very well, I'm not a big fan of AU's, but well, this time I couldn't say no, so here we are, and for the record, I actually had a lot of fun when writing this.
> 
> Here we go!

Monday-Real world

Fortuitous Event

It all went wrong when Evie, his long-known friend, asked him to watch over her store for a couple of hours. She had to go get something for her mother, but she couldn't close the place as it was a Friday afternoon and, supposedly, a lot of costumers would be entering the boutique.

The problem wasn't even to take care of the place. In fact, Carlos had only met the blue-haired girl because he was a costumer that dropped off way more often than normal and she was charismatic enough to break through his social awkwardness.

To be honest, he actually liked helping his friend with things like re-organizing the jewelry, carrying boxes and folding clothes. Several times, actually, Evie had offered to pay him, but he'd refused. Really, his mother had enough money to last a lifetime. The thing he needed was the girl's sparkling company.

No, he sincerely didn't mind Evie asking this small favor from him, more so, he was honored that she trusted him that much, but―he just didn't like to interact with the costumers, and that was surely what he'd have to do if he was to be the only one in the store.

However, he was a dutiful person, and thus accepted his luck resignedly and decided to take in whatever was to come.

Until then, fortunately, that had only consisted in a woman with her noisy yet cute daughters and a hurried teen that probably had just noticed she possessed no matching earrings for the outfit she'd be wearing in the night's party.

He had done well, Carlos mentally praised himself. He'd be just fine.

Too soon to think such a thing, he discovered barely a few seconds late, when two running teens entered the place, a purple-haired girl closing the door right after a tall boy got both of his feet inside the building, the girl sending glances over her shoulder, but not as if she were scared, more like she expected something to appear.

"May I help you with any―"

"Just take something you'd never wear and let's fucking get out of here" the girl spat, utterly ignoring Carlos as she entered the hallways that led to the different types of merchandise, going through shirts in pastel colors that looked nothing like the dark attire she was wearing at the time.

"Mister, can I help you?" the younger boy repeated when this presumed costumer didn't make any gesture to imitate his companion.

"Hm? What? Yeah, sure!" the teen muttered, blinking in what seemed to be his comeback to reality. "Look, em… Look…"

"Carlos".

"Yes, Carlos, look, I need a shirt in blue, the brightest blue you can find and a… a... I should probably tie my hair. Do you have any bands? Is that what they are called?"

"Certainly, mister, just let me―"

"We're in a bit of a hurry, Jay, I remind you!" the boy's company yelled from the dressing room.

"I'm getting at it, Mal, cut me some slack!" the boy yelled back, rolling a pair of eyes that Carlos now identified as chocolate brown.

"Well, we wouldn't be in this fucking problem if not for your stupid hero complex!" Mal continued to say, coming out of the room wearing a strapless shirt in pastel pink and a yellow skirt that she didn't quite look comfortable in. "I'm getting this and shoes… shoes… I need some sandals" she commanded, directing to Carlos, who had just returned with the blue shirt Jay had asked for, as she sent one last wistful glance towards her scattered clothes in the floor of the changing room. "What color don't I wear… White or silver? Silver sandals, do you have any?"

Alright, now, this wasn't your average costumer and Carlos sincerely didn't know what to do with these two other than go with what they were asking for.

"Great. Carlos, come with me!" the boy, that Carlos now identified as Jay, ordered, taking the presumed salesman by the shoulders and dragging him to the dressing room with the blue clothes in his hands.

"May I ask what's going on?" Carlos inquired, deciding it was better to try to talk with Jay than with Mal.

"Trust me, you don't want to know" the older boy replied, apparently not caring that he hadn't quite entered the changing room and already taking his shirt off.

"Oh, I'll tell you" Mal started to say, shifting her weight from one foot ―already in shoes with a pair of sandals she herself had set off to find― to the other, standing by the cash register of the boutique. "Jay here decided it was a good idea to get us both in trouble because he saw a pretty face".

"I already apologized!" Jay replied with a note of fake exasperation.

"Well, I'm sorry too, now, does that make it better?" the girl counter-attacked.

"Maybe not, but this certainly looks better on me than on the hook" the boy argued, trying on a shirt that certainly showed his well-built body, although it didn't quite seem like something he'd wear, especially taking in account the leather vest he'd just taken off. Turning his eyes to the floor, Carlos swallowed a laugh, as if to not say aloud that he agreed with the older boy.

"Whatever you say, Romeo" Mal satirized. "But we're still in a hurry, so get your shit together and let's get going!"

"Now, now, Mal, watch that mouth of yours, what will our friend Carlos think if you keep―?"

"Hurry up!" the purple-haired girl cut him off in a shout. "What will he think if your father finds us here!"

Probably, what Mal intended was to darken the mood, and if such a thing was her goal, then her words certainly achieved that―grimacing, Jay had no other option than to nod.

"Fair point, then" he accepted, turning to the young and inexperienced salesman. "Now, Carlos, we're taking all of this" he continued, gathering his belongings just before he threw a bunch of bills into Carlos' hands.

"Thank you, I'll just… I'll get you the…" the boy started to say, only to be interrupted by the girl of the bizarre due.

"Take it, keep the change and let's get out of here before―" in that moment, Mal herself was interrupted by the rustling of the door's hinges. Sending a warning glare towards Jay while she directed her right hand directed to her waist, as if wanting to take a gun out of its case, although Carlos noted that, if that was the case, it was merely a matter of intimidation, as the only thing she actually had around her waist was a sparkling belt.

"Carlos!" came the excited voice of Evie from the front door. "I'm back!"

"Right here!" he called, happy to have someone else to help him sort out this strange scenario.

Unfortunately, Jay and Mal didn't seem as enthusiastic with the newcomer, theory that was confirmed due to the girl mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'Damn it, Jay, I told you!' under her breath.

"Here you are!" Evie greeted excitedly before noticing they had company. "You?" Carlos heard her say just as she stared back at Mal. "How did you get here?"

For a moment, Carlos considered the possibility of this strange occurrence being all a misunderstanding, but the same recognition shone in Mal's emerald eyes.

"Oh dear, I can't believe it!" the purple-haired girl let out, smacking the palm of her hand on her forehead.

Noticing that even Jay wore a knowing expression, Carlos decided he'd had enough of being oblivious to everything.

"Alright, can one of you explain what in the world is this all about? Please?" he added after a glare of Mal.

"Well, you see, Carlos, these two right here stopped a man from stealing me" the boy's friend was thrilled to offer with a smile that suggested no such a thing. Still, Carlos knew better, and Evie was certainly good at keeping things to herself. Like how, sometimes, she needed makeup to cover bruises. Like how he actually had entered that girl's boutique with a very similar purpose.

"What―?" the boy let out in an outraged but high-pitched cry.

"Now, I couldn't let such a beauty be mistreated by my father, could I?" Jay replied, gesturing to take Evie's hand before the other girl stopped him by slapping his arm.

"Oh, no, don't you even think about it! Either you save her or you flirt with her, but not both!" Mal reprimanded, not really caring that her words sounded weird. "We're already in enough trouble with Jafar as it is!"

"Then I guess I'll have to flirt with someone else" Jay proposed, winking at Carlos which for some reason made the younger boy blush to the very tips of his hair. That at least before Jay's expression darkened. "And anyways, he's drunk, you know? He won't remember it tomorrow".

Just as the words left the boy's lips, Evie and Carlos shared a knowing glance. Sure, they knew enough about having problems with their parents. Grimacing, Mal could only shift her weight from one foot to the other.

"Well, if you… if you need somewhere to spend the night…" Carlos started, directing to Jay, after a few minutes of a tense silence. "Perhaps you could stay at my house…" as he finished, he didn't really know where the words had come from, they just―seemed right.

"Sure thing!" Evie applauded next to him, turning to Mal. "And you could stay with me if… if that's alright with you, of course".

Suddenly, Jay and Mal sent each other a look that was pure shock, as if they couldn't believe someone was offering them such a thing or as if they came from somewhere in where proposition like that one didn't even exist.

Probably they did, though, Carlos dwelled on numbly, just like Evie and he came from a world in which they could do something like that because their parents were too busy ignoring them to care about what they did.

But that confused expression was gone within a second from the duo's features as their resolution came back.

"I… I think that would be alright" Jay decided to break the ice, managing a huge grin that for Carlos felt as if he were lighting the entire room. "Plus, I get to check that nothing happens to you on your way home" he continued, and he winked once more, coquettishly, playfully, and that sent a shiver down Carlos' spine.

"All settled then!" Evie announced, closing windows and getting ready to close. "We'll leave in a second. Sorry, what's your name? Mad, Maddie? Mal! That's it, am I right?" she answered herself. "You guys should get going already" she ordered, giving the two boys a sparkling smile that almost rivaled Jay's grin.

"See you around" the older boy nodded, drawing an arm around Carlos' back comfortingly, so much so that the younger teen didn't even feel the need to jerk away.

Honestly, Carlos could only mutter a distant 'Good night' and he hardly heard the girls' replies, too caught up in the warmness that he could feel spread through his body due to Jay's touch―the presumed thief seems so… laid-back, as if he'd done this a thousand times and it didn't matter that he'd just met Carlos, who was usually too socially awkward to let such a casual touch happen.

To be sincere, he couldn't help but wish this would happen at least once more.

Who knew, great things did come from fortuitous events, after all, no matter how bizarre the beginning of them were.


	2. Broken Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! There are a couple of things I want to explain about this story, and this is to say that, given how protection stories with these two are a little overrated with Chad and the Gastons and everyone being mean to Carlos I wanted this little something to be special, to have something that made it different from all the other stories you can read in this very same page about the exact same couple.
> 
> First I thought about making this about Cruella herself, but in the end I couldn't find a plot for that one. Then, while discussing this particular day with a friend we came up with a story that had nothing to do with the theme other than protection. It was still good, don't get me wrong, but I didn't like it for this day.
> 
> In the end, I came up with a character that I hope is not as overused when it comes to Jay protecting Carlos from her, and that other story that is complicated and darker is something you will be able to read tomorrow!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little something!

Tuesday-Bullies/Protection stories  
Broken Pieces

If you had asked what Carlos de Vil's relationship with Mal was, he would have answered complicated.

That was to say they didn't hate each other, though they weren't close either. Plainly, he was much too insignificant for Mal to pay attention to, and that was neither good nor bad—that was just a fact, the way things were done.

Not that a bunch of people treated him any differently, only minding him when they needed something from him, either ignoring him or mistreating him when they didn't.

Honestly, Carlos wasn't even bothered by that statement anymore—as long as Mal wasn't against him he could deal with her nonchalance.

Which hadn't been the case for the last two days, with the whole thing about breaking the magical barrier going on.

It wasn't that he didn't want the barrier to be trespassed, it wasn't that he didn't wish to open a crack in it big enough for him to take off and leave that rotten place, it wasn't that he wasn't trying hard enough to find a way out of this hell of a life—it was plainly that he couldn't manage to do it.

Unfortunately for him, Mal didn't seem to understand that.

"I'm telling you for the last time, Carlos, I need this thing done!" she yelled, letting her open hands fall on the surface of the table the boy was working on, making the piece of furniture shake under the impulse.

"I'm trying, Mal, I just have no material to work with!" he managed to reply, knowing he was no match against the girl's anger.

"And how is that my fault? If you're missing material then what in the world are you doing here lazing around? Get your ass to move and go find it!" the daughter of Maleficent continued, leaning over the table closer and closer, until she was practically screaming at his face. Cowering, Carlos could only shut his eyes in an attempt to block the words from entering his mind.

"I told you, Mal, even if I try to find it the only thing we have here at the Isle is garbage! I have nothing to work with!" he replied again, clenching his fists and chewing on his lower lip in defeat.

"Well, then look harder!" the girl pressured through he gritted teeth. "But listen to me, stupid piece of—"

"Enough" Jay suddenly pipped in, stepping away from the wall he had been leaning on.

"Pardon me?" Mal replied, blinking in something akin to surprise, as if she couldn't possibly believe someone had dared refute her words.

"As you heard, Mal, stop bugging" the son of Jafar added, walking up to them so he stood between a furious Mal and an astonished Carlos, the younger boy too unsettled to believe his eyes. "If your useless magic can't conjure what he needs then it's not Carlos' fault you ain't trying hard enough".

"How—how dare you?" the purple-haired girl replied, raising both her chin and her voice in disbelief.

There was something fierce in her emerald eyes, Carlos noted almost with fear. She was, as a matter of fact, a dangerous person to have as an enemy, both because of who her mother was, but mostly because of who she was, of the influences she had and of the facility with which she could make your life in the isle a living hell more than it already was.

And yet—Jay was willing to do that, to risk a feud with her, for him.

Jay and Mal were not friends, of course not —friends didn't exist in the Isle—, but they were partners in mischief and had each other's back. Sure thing, the son of Jafar didn't always agree with what the daughter of Maleficent did or ordered him to do, but he was nonchalant enough to do it anyways.

But not now—there was something just as fierce and threatening in Jay's chocolate orbs as in Mal's green ones. There was something noble and passionate in how the son of Jafar was standing, sheltering the younger boy from the daughter of Maleficent with his own body.

"I can't believe it!" Mal concluded, turning on her heels to leave the treehouse in two exaggeratedly long strides.

In contrast to the worried glance with which Carlos followed the girl's departure, Jay merely shrugged and turned to meet the son of Cruella's eyes, being forced to kneel down as the boy didn't seem to hold any desire of raising his gaze.

"Listen, Carlos, I know you're trying" he attempted, failing to bring the younger's attention to him. "See, Mal is under a lot of pressure herself, and I know she can be a pain in the ass, but—"

But Carlos had stopped listening because he couldn't hold tears any longer and how stupid, how stupid was this, and so he drew his arms around Jay's waist like he'd seen the people in those stupid Auradonian programs do, unable to stand still for any longer.

He knew he was being an idiot, a weakling, he knew he would regret it and yet—at the time… at the time he just wanted to feel the warm, human contact of someone next to him.

"Now, now, you're not supposed to be doing this" Jay murmured in the kindest, most awkward voice Carlos had heard him use, already regretting having done such an idiotic thing.

However, out of pure human reflexes the son of Jafar circled the younger boy's shaky shoulders and held him close, his strong arms the one true shelter Carlos knew in that rotten place.

That was the first time Carlos allowed himself to just show how broken and useless he was instead of faking indifference and nonchalance towards how he was treated. That was the first time he even dared break down into tears in the presence of someone else. The first time he decided it didn't matter anymore, when overall it did, because that was the first time he allowed Jay to see how shattered he truly was and the son of Jafar decided to stay by his side and collect the broken pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did that go? Please let me know in your comments! Okay, I get it, it's a little cheesy, and yes, I made Mal a little too much of a bitch, I declare myself guilty. The thing is (and you know it as well as I do), I'm a sucker for the Rotten Four, and I especially have something with the sibling-like relationships, so, yes, it was hard for me too because, most of times, I write with Mal protecting Carlos herself, not putting him down (not on purposem anyways), so... yes, sorry about that, I hope tomorrow's story makes up for this one. At least I can assure you something—tomorrow's story is way longer than this one!
> 
> Read you soon!


	3. Inner Demons and Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's time to turn a little (a lot, actually), more serious. For the people who have followed me for a while, and who know my writing style, I have to confess one things—this is not the sweet story you are expecting from me.
> 
> As you know, I have some very special ideas when it comes to writing, and mostly I stick to Hurt/Comfort because, c'mon, these charcters deserve to be happy, but every fandom needs someone that asks questions everyone was better off without, and I want to be that someone (no, not, really, this fandom already has a wonderful author to do that, some that run by the name of thatoneshippyblog and whose account I strongly recomend you to check out). It's precisely because we all know that the Isle could have gone ten times words but didn't because it's a movie meant for children that I'm writing this.
> 
> Remember when I wrote "Sweet Words and Harsh Actions"? That I said more stories with a similar theme would be coming? Well, this is one of those stories. For all of those who did not read the one-shot I just mentioned, this story is darker than my other works, it includes something that gave mechills and that often made me want to throw up while writing. This story is rated M because one, it has child abuse, but more importantly, it has sexual abuse and child prostitution. I want to think this is not very graphic, but the definition of 'graphic' is different to each people, so I'll leave it to your own discretion.
> 
> The only reason that pushed me to finish this story is that, sadly, this is a reality in which more than seven million of children with ages between four and twelve years old live everyday around the world. I convinced myself of writing this merely because writing in itself is a way of expressing one's thoughts and concerns, and I wanted to bring attention to this issue.
> 
> Also, there are some things going on with Frollo and in his speech that somewhat explains his sick deeds I include something about God and sins. Personally, I'm not Catholic, but my intention with this is far from offending anyone who does practice this or any other religion.
> 
> No religion, in itself, is evil, that's a fact. Evilness is something that everyone has within, just as goodness, and it's by our deeds that we decide which side we want to overweigh the other one, regardless of our nationality, religion, raze or anything else.
> 
> However, we cannot deny that several crimes have gone unpunished merely because they were committed by someone in a high power position. With this story, I want to express that, and i really hope none of you, beautiful people, gets offended by this because that's far from my intention.
> 
> I promise you there's a happy ending because, of course, bad habits never die, but if this is not your cup of tea, please just wait until tomorrow, when I will publish something happier and full of cheer.

Wednesday-Isle Stories

Inner Demons and Memories

It all started way before Carlos could even realize how bad things would get over time. Although, true to be said, how could he not guess it, how could he not expect it? This was the Isle of the Lost they were talking about, after all, and if there was one thing you could always be sure of in that rotten place, that was that there things always worsened, never bettered.

Now, the intermittent lovers of his mother weren't something unknown to him. For as long as Carlos could remember, he'd seen her spend the night with anyone that was drunk enough to bed her. And he hated it, every bit of it―the way, even more noticeable than ever in which Cruella ignored him, the hazed look alcohol gave his mother's eyes, the disdainful smile in the men's lips, the way mean considered in the right to get their own back with him whenever something didn't go as they wanted with Cruella, and, lastly, how his mother blamed him whenever something disappeared as a product of those lovers' everlasting love of a night.

He should have been scared of something else, he dwelled on years later, he should have been terrified of something other than his mother's incessant beatings or hurtful words―he should have feared the men in themselves, with what they could do and what they could steal, with how they could be the thieves of something that wasn't material to touch but that could all the same be sold at the bazar.

That time wasn't the first one Gaston walked Cruella to Hell Hall. That time wasn't the first one Gaston stayed to spend the night with the crazed woman. That was, though, the first time Gaston sent him a glance, as if to acknowledge his presence. That was, though, the first time, Gaston wasn't stumbling and tripping on his own feet. Oh no, that was the first time in which Carlos saw a close-enough-to-sober person draw an arm around Cruella's waist.

On the nights his mother brought someone to the house he could never sleep. Even as a kid he was just too frightened, too used to anticipate a fight or a shouting match to rest assured when there was someone other than his mother ―same that was already bad enough― in the house. Even when they were alone, Cruella was simply too unstable on a regular basis to know what to expect from her.

However, he just barely knew what lying awake in his make-fun-of a bed, clutching the covers in an attempt to find some comfort in the contact because he was too terrified to sleep was. He just scarcely understood what panic, what terror even meant.

Cruella and her company, on the other hand, never seemed to have such a problem, and thus it was almost calming to listen to the adult's snoring breaths―not because they sounded peaceful, but plainly because, if they were asleep, then that meant that they couldn't hurt him.

Unfortunately for him, that night it wasn't much after the loud noises had died in the next room that he heard the heavy footfalls of Gaston standing up from the crunchy mattress and walking around the house.

He tried to ignore them, ignore the way in which his breath was caught up in his throat by the movement that signalized someone else was awake, to ignore how utterly terrified he was because he had heard steps in that house for his whole god dammed life, and yet, nothing had happened, nothing would happen. He needed to believe that, to cling to that trembling hope.

That night he wasn't as lucky, and so the steps did not turn to the restroom or followed to the kitchen, instead continuing to his parody of bedroom. They didn't stop when Gaston found the door closed either, as the man had no problem opening it or with the rustling of the hinges, for that matter. No, far from that, those dreadful steps didn't stop until they reached the dirty rags Carlos called a mattress, and when they did end it was already too late for the boy to even think of running.

He wouldn't have been able to do it anyways, as he was too panicked to move, too tense to think, too agitated to concentrate on anything other than his ragged breathing.

True to be said, though, Gaston made sure that soon enough he had something else to worry about.

The uneasy feeling of sickening worry didn't start when Gaston touched him, oh no, it was way before the man's calloused fingers traced his skin, venturing where he shouldn't have, taking what wasn't his. It begun just as soon as Gaston leaved over, inclining the mattress towards him under his weight.

"Now, now, young man" Gaston started over the loud beating of Carlos' heart. "We're going to do a couple of things and we're going to be careful of not waking up the bitch of your mother up, aren't we?"

"Mister… Gaston, I don't think… If you need anything, I―" Carlos manage through the tight knot that had become his throat, only provoking the villain to chuckle, a look of complete contempt in his eyes.

"You think I don't know what I'm doing, don't you, kiddo?" he muttered, smirking with teeth wretched by alcohol, by rotten food, by putrid insides, his left hand finally directing to Carlos' shoulder, holding him down in place with a strength unexpected from a drunken man.

"Gaston―I… I…" but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth, the whole idea couldn't even begin to form in his mind. This wasn't a beating, not a normal beating at much, but Carlos felt utterly terrified, every single muscle in his body was shouting him, pleading him to run away, to leap off and flee, but Gaston's grip, too close to his neck for his liking, to close to just snap it, impeded him of doing so.

It only got worse as Gaston shot him one last, twisted smile before directing his right hand to his belt and unfastening it.

That was the moment the boy understood.

Of course he recognized the position, the look of lust in Gaston's eyes―of course he knew he had reasons to fear for his future.

It wasn't that he had found himself in that situation before, it was the mere fact that he had seen it enough with his mother to actually recognize it from before his mother closed the door of her own bedroom, except for the times in which she and her company were both too drunk to remember it or to even mind it.

"You're going to enjoy this, kiddo" Gaston's husky voice spat next to his ear, his nauseously alcoholic breath tickling over Carlos' skin until it made the boy dizzy, forcing his breathing to become more labored.

Had it been a normal beating, he would have shut his eyes closed, crossed his arms over his chest and curled up into a ball, in a desperate attempt to protect his vital organs. Had it been a normal beating, he would have breath more evenly because, wrong as it sounded, had it been a normal beating, he would have known what to expect, but on his current situation, he was at a loss, too horrified of thinking what would happen to even dare do it.

Had it been a normal beating, he wouldn't have attempted to beg, but this wasn't a normal beating, this was darker, scarier, and left him feeling even more impotent than any previous problems he'd had, and so he decided that it didn't matter, none of it mattered.

"Gaston… Gaston, please" he let out, the first of many tears falling from the corner of his eyes, his back shaking under violent sobs that he hadn't realized climbed his throat. "Gaston, please, I-I… I'm sorry" he whispered, knowing full-well that it was better to just say those words, even when if he didn't know why he needed to say them in the first place than to risk the other's wrath.

"Bet you won't be for much" the villain snarled before breaking into those cruel make-fun-of chuckles, just as he gripped Carlos' shoulder, forcing him to turn around, the same hand that had unfastened his belt feeling free to sneak beneath the boy's underwear, roaming in inappropriate places as he shot a disdainful grin when his rude actions caused the child under him to whimper.

"Gaston, I―" Carlos tried one last time, before Gaston finally silenced him by taking the boy's short and pulling it down his knees harshly, not seeming very concerned when that provoked a panicked yelp from his victim.

"Listen, boy, I said be quiet, did I not?" the man snapped, suddenly turning more violent, his voice not really angered, but instead denoting that disconnected state people had after drinking too much to care for their deeds but not enough to not remember them later either. "And if you don't want to feel worse you'll do as I say!"

With that, Gaston's left hand moved to Carlos' head, pushing him down towards the pillow, his right already on the boy's back, holding him still just in case the odd idea of escaping crossed his mind, which was unlikely, as Carlos was too paralyzed with fear to correctly process anything.

When the first thrust came, Carlos ―needless to say― wasn't prepared. Jeez, he didn't even know what to expect, how could he… How could he even…?

The pain, Carlos discovered, was a good replacement for fear. The feeling of intrigue came when you awaited something bad to happen, expected paralyzed because you didn't have anything else to do. Pain, on the other side, was the consequence of what had caused that panic in the first place.

It was almost relieving to feel the hurt after all that unease. Carlos knew pain, he could deal with it, with cuts, with open wounds, with blood, with bruises.

In the end, this wasn't but a normal beating, perhaps a little harsher, perhaps a bit more hurt-provoking, perhaps more unexpected, but a normal beating at last, and Carlos had plenty of experience in those, and thus he could only shut his eyes and bite his lower lip until he was able to taste blood in his mouth, the crimson liquid the one thing he forced himself to focus on instead of everything that was happening on his backside.

It wasn't but a normal beating, he told himself, if only it left him feeling much worse, more like a useless leftover and less than a like a wounded person.

When it was finally over, when that infamous white liquid was left dripping on Carlos' legs as Gaston brought himself to his feet and walked over to Cruella's room again, that sinister grin plastered on his crooked lips, the broken boy was too tired, too numb to even raise his head to watch his victimizer leave. He was too used to wounds to even dare do anything other than expect the next attack.

—*—*—

The next morning Carlos stirred just as the sun raised, much in contact with his internal alarm to allow his exhaustion to avoid him from waking up. Not a single muscle from his body was safe from the burning ache that inundated him and the very thought of turning around on the ripped mattress made his insides sick.

It wasn't until several hours later, when Cruella woke up too, the hideous sunlight entering through her window, that he was forced to actually bring his messed up legs to the ground and walk.

"Carlos! Carlos! You filthy piece of garbage, come here right now!" the woman squeaked, her high-pitched tone more like the one of a magpie than a human.

The boy, on his side, was too hurt to even feel anything towards his mother's usage of words. It would be better if he ignored her, anyways, and at the moment he was too tired to say anything, thus he limped out of his room and into the dining room, where he found Cruella and Gaston sitting at the table, no food placed in front of them, of course not, but a good bottle of God-knew-what that they seemed to be sharing.

"It was about time" Cruella let out in a snarl, taking one long gulp of the glass bottle. Nodding slightly, Carlos tried not to flinch too much when he felt Gaston's eyes roam shamelessly over his body.

"See, this is what I meant, Cruella, you're too soft on the kid" the man opined. At the mention of those words, the old dalmatian thief stood straighter, her head held high.

"Well, I guess I shall accept your offer then, if it's still standing, Gaston" her squeaky voice said, contemptuously turning to her son. "Now, now, Carlos, Gaston here had a wonderful idea. Yesterday night ―no, wait, just now, a moment ago― he proposed that he taught you how to fight. Might come in handy if someone breaks in at night and wants to steal my furs".

"Will rough him up, too" Gaston chuckled, focusing his eyes on the bottle he had just snatched from Cruella's hand, who didn't seem to mind the ruthless action, as he smirked.

Time stopped and Carlos had yet another opportunity to confirm that what was already bad could only turn worse.

—*—*—

To be honest, the young boy didn't know what to expect other than an attack like the previous night's from Gaston, but he hadn't anticipated for what would come next.

After the adulterated whiskey was finally over, Gaston dragged him through the aisles of the bazar until they reached the make-fun-of chapel, where he knocked―still, Carlos wouldn't notice that until much later, after visiting that breath-snatching place numerous times, too busy forcing himself to keep his eyes downcast at the time.

What he did note, though, was the worn off robes and polished shoes of the person who opened the door.

"I brought him" Gaston announced, only to receive a warning glare from the former Parisian minister, Claude Frollo.

"Don't pronounce such heedless perfidies while standing in the street, Gaston, I've told you" the old man scolded, muttering through gritted teeth, moving aside so Gaston and Carlos ―who was pushed inside by the previous― could enter the place. The hunter merely smirked.

"Well, you see, Frollo, I carried out my part, but I haven't seen none of yours, so I get to say whatever I feel like saying" he replied, pushing Carlos forward ruthlessly, almost making the boy trip over, but not even then did the boy dare raise his eyes. "The kid's here, good as new, now get my money and stop losing my time".

"Gaston, I don't like your tone and neither do I like your price. I'm offering you my place, letting you go off with no payment for your infamous deeds with the sole condition that I get to use the boy for a lower price and instead it seems I told you to raise it!" he continued, shooting a glare full of contempt in Carlos' direction. The boy hardly even flinched.

"Oh, and I've lowered the price, Frollo, but what I'm offering is something you'll never see again in this God-forgotten place" he muttered, proposedly choosing his words in a way that would make them too tempting to resist for Frollo, his voice so alike Jafar's when he haggled something that it almost scared Carlos, at least it would have, had he'd still knew a piece of himself that wasn't afraid already.

Just as he finished talking, Gaston extended one hand towards Carlos' chin, forcing him to raise his frightened eyes and holding him in place as he tilted it for Frollo to analyze the merchandise.

"Just look at it, Frollo" Gaston continued, nonchalant. "So innocent, so guiltless. I'm sure your God wouldn't have it any other way…"

That much, Frollo had to recognize, that boy still had the audacity to look scared, his eyes too full of pain instead of dim and sunken, like the ones of the previous candidates Gaston had brought.

"And you are true, Gaston, but I'm saving all of you sinners by having contact with this filthy riff-raff, although at that price I'm thinking of reconsidering doing such a thing" he repeated, to which Gaston merely rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Think it well, Frollo, because you won't find nothing like what I'm offering you" Gaston continued, immutable, tightening his hold on Carlos' chin until the boy grew numb. "Look at what you're letting go, Frollo, so young and innocent, barely eight years of age, so guiltless, so―"

"You win, Gaston" Frollo yielded, practically snarling. "But just you remember that the only reason you won't go straight to Hell after you die is me making this sacrifice for all you, sinners!" and with that a pouch filled with tinkling coins was thrown into Gaston's disproportionately big hands, after what Frollo took the young boy by the shoulder, directing him to a separate room.

When the door closed behind them the only thing Carlos could feel was panic and unease swell up inside him, not even pain being enough to push away the anticipation of more suffering, of what would come next.

And he wasn't wrong, for once he wasn't wrong, because, for once, Carlos had only expected things to turn worse, and worse they turned.

This time there were no words, no threats to stay silent and not wake up the bitch sleeping in the next room, no calloused hands holding him down with strength, no warning before pain flooded him―only one simple statement that haunted his mind while Frollo's careful hands roamed over his skin, tracing it, marking it.

"I'm doing this to keep you all sinners from Hell, boy. Sacrifice is what Lord values the most. And you should be happy that you have been the one chosen".

And so that was it, in Gaston's words as they walked back to Hell Hall, his "new job", his new manly activity, of which his mother mustn't listen of, because, well, she wasn't a man, not like them, but a mere whore. Oh, but he wasn't like her, was he?

It was, surprising, to be honest, the amount of people that suddenly frequented the chapel in search of "coming clean from their sins", at least for Carlos, that was, who dutifully awaited Gaston's orders next to the entrance of "God's temple", his eyes never daring to raise.

Cruella, on her side, wasn't very impressed when his son returned home limping or covered in bruises and fresh cuts, not even when he appeared with burn-marks. This was in favor of her furs, she thought, the boy came out as being insignificant. A weakling as he was she could have beaten the crap out of him with ease herself.

—*—*—

It was long, long before Carlos met someone else that was even slightly bothered by it.

It happened shortly after his twelfth birthday, shortly after he had helped Mal with everything about the Dragon Eye.

After what they had been through he had actually started hanging out with the other villains' kids, even if they all kept to themselves most of times, which allowed Carlos to continue with his lucrative trade.

It was during one of those times in which Carlos stood by the wooden door of the chapel, silently awaiting for his victimizer to come, his eyes trained to remain on the ground.

He was standing so still that Jay almost didn't notice him, but in the end the match of colors that he was now used to search for among the crowds of the school finally allowed him to spot the son of Cruella out of the horde. Fortunately, the young thief stopped himself from grinning or publicly calling Carlos as he realized Frollo came out of the chapel, gripped the boy by the waist and dragged him inside, slamming the door shut. Overall, Jay didn't like Carlos' resigned expression one bit.

For the younger boy, quite honestly, it was just another day of work, not the best one, but not one of the worse ones either―simply another one. And of course, for the finishing touch, he was still missing Frollo's ever so righteous hands touching him, expiating the sins, Carlos' sins and everyone else's in the isle that had touched him in that infamous way, just to close with a flourish.

It was when Frollo was starting it over, his hands barely underneath Carlos' pants that Jay stealthy entered, too stunned with the sight that welcomed him to even process the information correctly.

Before he even know what he was doing, the son of Jafar was already delivering a punch to the former minister's face, blood tainting Jay's fist almost immediately, as the man fell to the floor on his knees with a muffled grunt. Jay couldn't have cared less.

"Carlos, what―what in hell?" the son of Jafar let out, unable to stop himself, a look not of terror, but surely of astonishment in his own features.

"Jay, I-I can explain!" the boy muttered shakily, lowering his eyes as he fidgeted.

"Better start right now" the older boy demanded in a voice colder than he'd intended.

"Listen, I-I… I know what I am doing, just― Some dealings, I―"

"Wait a minute, did you ask for this?" Jay inquired, the unease in his gut tightening because things were already wrong and they only seemed to turn worse.

"What? No!" came as his immediate answer, Carlos unable to stop himself even though he knew it would have been easier to just nod and lay the matter off.

"Then what in the world is―?" but that was the moment couldn't take it any longer, as he stepped forward, pushing Jay out of his way and taking off, running as fast as his messed up legs would carry him.

And he was light on his feet, and he knew the bazar, so much so that Jay actually strained to keep up with him, until, of course, the inevitable happened, and he lost track of the boy, staying behind with a weird taste on his mouth and a disgusted feeling of restlessness that was unknown to him.

—*—*—

News weren't something that traveled slowly, especially gossip, and especially not in a place like the Isle of the Lost, where soon enough, by some unknown way, half the isle―the half that hadn't known before the incident― was aware of Frollo's lucrative and far-from-sacred trade. Of course, the half that had known was trying to look as surprised and comments like "Such filthy things, for such price!", "Why pay when you can get that for free?" and "It was that de Vil brat, no less!" were only lame attempts of faking obliviousness.

It didn't take long before Cruella heard of it, too, which certainly wasn't good news for the boy either.

For once, though, Carlos wasn't at the receiving end of her wrath. Quite honestly, crazed as she was, a furious Cruella wasn't something anyone wanted to deal with, and a furious Cruella was what Gaston had to deal with as soon as the knowledge of what he'd been doing with her son reached her.

"You've been prostituting my boy!" she screamed, having dragged that same boy from Hell Hall and through the bazar that he knew so well until they reached Gaston's bar. "You've been selling him, using him!" she raged, her harpy's voice suddenly not as high-pitched, instead becoming something along the lines of threatening instead.

She was fuming, Carlos noted in astonishment, standing close enough to his mother to feel the fury she irradiated, eyes downcast. There was something fierce in her posture, in her voice as she appeared, straightened up, making a fuss with her hands, fully facing the former opponent of who currently was the king of Auradon.

She was fuming, Carlos noted, and it was because of him, on his behalf, and not because some silly furs being ruined. He'd never seen her so mad, so annoyed, not even when he broke a plate or forgot to wash her car. For years, he'd been used to see the emaciated and defeated leftovers of what his mother had once been, but looking at her now he understood, he finally understood why the people in Auradon, so weak and useless, would fear her plenty enough to put her away on that rotten island.

"Listen, Cruella, allow me to explain you―" Gaston started, only to be cut off by the very woman she intended to talk to.

Carlos knew that he shouldn't let himself do it, but even so, at the sight of Cruella looking so fierce, so protecting of him, the young boy felt something akin to hope swell up in his breathing.

"You've been selling off my son! What is there to explain?" she accused in a shout, and then, in a lower voice, she added. "And I haven't seen a penny of the money you've raised!"

And so that hope or wistfulness or whatever it had been was transformed into nothing, right then and there, hysterical hiccups climbing Carlos' throat because how could he be so stupid? Still, he didn't cry―he'd ran out of tears long in the past.

"Cruella, if you want a part in the deal, then that can be―"

"Oh, no, you've already done more than enough!" the woman proclaimed, her harpy tone back as she turned on her heels to leave the establishment, her sight, for once, more than enough to make the crowd that impeded her of reaching Hell Hall part and let her go through it.

Although she didn't seem to remember her son, not even to drag him back to her mansion, not even to slap him in public after all he'd done and how much he actually deserved that beating, after how much he even longed for it.

And so Carlos was left standing there, in the middle of a mob that looked down at him in contempt, not holding back tears, but not appearing much better than if he'd been either, seeing as his mother's words had become everything he was able to listen, no matter how she had already left.

"You've been selling off my son and I haven't seen a penny of the money you've raised! You've been selling off my son and I haven't seen a penny of the money you've raised!"

Really, why was he surprised?

—*—*—

He woke up with a gasp, his eyes fluttering open with something close to a whimper that he forced himself to swallow as he took in how it wasn't real, how Frollo was far away in the Isle and how his mother and everyone else wasn't real too, but it didn't really serve for much.

It took him a minute before his sight cleared ―from tears or from sleep, he wasn't sure― and he could make out the silhouette of the big window of the perfect furniture that wasn't second-hand. It took him a minute before he smelled the unpolluted air, felt the actual bed he was using and he started believing that in fact he wasn't back at the Isle. That knowledge still didn't lessen the tension on his shoulders.

There was no use in him trying to fall asleep on a new account, and neither did he want to do it, too fearful of bringing back memories he was better off without, so instead of turning on the bed and willing his eyes to close, Carlos de Vil brought himself to his feet, walking over to the window in the hopes that the sight, so different, so perfect, so unpolluted helped him remember, helped him anchor himself to Auradon and not the past.

It never worked, sure. But trying felt better than to just be cowering in a corner.

He was so caught up in himself that he didn't even notice how, with a soft grunt of anticipation, Jay woke up and left his own bed. He was so caught up in himself that he didn't notice Jay standing in front of him until the older boy spoke.

"It's about that again, isn't it?" the former thief murmured, addressing a Carlos that was too tired to even feel startled by his presence anymore, a single tear running down his right cheek.

"It's nothing" Carlos replied in a voice so quite Jay actually had to strain to listen him.

For a moment, the son of Jafar wanted to do something, to say something, but he knew better than to carry on with those thoughts, he knew better than to step forward instead of giving the boy in front of him the space he so obviously was begging for.

"It's over, Carlos" he said, just hoping that would be enough to pull the boy from his trance-like state. "It's over" he repeated, even when, sure enough, his words weren't enough to carry out their duty, only managing to make the son of Cruella finally turn around, his huge brown eyes unseeing and trembling lips being bitten in an attempt to hold back tears, to swallow down a scream, to not appear weak in the presence of someone else.

Knowing all too well that there wasn't much he could do, the son of Jafar merely opened his arms for the boy, incapable of reaching for him because he knew, he knew that no matter how much he craved to do that such an action would only make the matter worse.

For two whole minutes all Carlos did was blankly stare back at him, his eyes scanning him, judging him, until he decided that the chocolate orbs of the former thief lacked that gleam of lust, of contempt, and, at least, he leaned closer to him, letting Jay's arms warp around him as he broke down crying.

"It's over" Jay stated once more in a soft voice. "It's over, Carlos".

"It isn't" the boy replied between hiccups. "It isn't. I-I'm sorry for waking you up, it's just― I… I…"

"Let's get you to bed" Jay cut him off gently, knowing that soon enough Carlos would tart babbling nonsense that made him responsible of absolutely everything, when nothing had been his fault if he wasn't stopped.

The son of Jafar also mentally smacked himself when his poor choice of words made Carlos stiffen, but even so he gathered the boy in his arms ―careful where he touched, careful not to touch― and walked over to his bed, sitting down as he clutched the boy to his chest.

Carlos, fortunately, let him do, too scared, too weary to even fight back. Although Jay really wanted to believe that it wasn't that, that the fact that Carlos was allowing him to touch, to see him like that was that he knew it was him, that he trusted him. Because even though Carlos couldn't command the fear to leave his body he understood, he comprehended that the son of Jafar wasn't like the others.

To be fair, at least, Jay wasn't panicking like the first time he'd found himself in such a situation, he wasn't confused, because, even if he wished he didn't, at least he understood what was going on. To be honest, too, he was still getting used to all that Auradonian thing about love and comfort, it still felt weird to actually act and wipe someone else's tears away instead of plainly turning around or mocking at the weakness display, even when he couldn't deny that it in fact felt better to do something instead of merely walking away from a crying person, especially if that someone looked as broken and helpless as the boy in his arms.

"Carlos, c'mon" he called once more, rubbing circles into Carlos' back. "It's not real. Not anymore"

"Please, please" the boy sobbed as he gripped the fabric of Jay's shirt. "Don't do it. Not… not now… Please".

Not really understanding what that was about, all Jay would gather was, in truth, Carlos was still too wrapped up in himself, in his memories to understand that he wasn't at the Isle anymore.

Refraining a sigh, Jay for once was thankful that he couldn't go back to the isle, because how badly he wished to get a grip of Cruella for being so stupid, of Frollo for his stupid bigotry, of Gaston, for… Of… How badly he wanted to make them suffer, to see them in pain. Whether or not if that made him as bad as they were, he didn't know. But he didn't care either.

Snapping himself back to reality, Jay took a deep breath before he directed his left hand to Carlos' chin and gently pushed it up in a failed attempt of making him raise his gaze.

"Carlos. Carlos, look at me" he asked, this time being successful, although he cupped the boy's face carefully, forcing him to stay in place. "You aren't in the Isle anymore and even so I wouldn't do it. I would never hurt you like that, alright? I wouldn't hurt you".

At his words, spoken softly, with kindness, with fondness, with the passion of rage Jay felt whenever he thought of what had happened gave to his tone, as if Carlos deserved to be treated with some kind of care, with some kind of gentleness, all the son of Cruella could do was cling to that, to the long overdue affection, to a touch that didn't burn, to a caress that didn't hurt.

"It's alright, you're safe now" Jay continued to murmur softly, playing with Carlos' hair gently in an attempt to let him know he wasn't alone.

It was long before Carlos' sobs finally started to diminish, long before his breathing stopped being so ragged, long before Jay's blood stopped boiling.

"I-I'm sorry" the younger boy mumbled as soon as he got a grip of himself, gesturing to jerk away, but Jay merely held him more tightly.

"Don't be. None of this is your fault, are you listening? It's not you that has to be sorry" the son of Jafar replied as he leaned down to press a kiss to Carlos' forehead.

For a second, the remnant of fear that still existed in Carlos' body made him freeze, shut his eyes closed before he even noticed there was no danger, before remembering that this was Jay, that he was safe―but as he did, he nodded with thankfulness and let the older boy do, hiding his face in the crook of Jay's neck, taking in that familiar scent.

It wasn't until Carlos' breathing became nothing but a soft sound that Jay felt the knot in his chest undo itself and he could sense himself at ease on a new account.

He sighed, trying to push the rage away as he continued drawing soothing circles into the boy's back and arms.

True to be said, it wasn't the first time the son of Jafar found himself in that situation, even if not counting the ones in the isle, and they were more than he wanted to remember, instead, Jay had learned to push away the fury and rage and the impotence merely because that was what Carlos needed someone to pick up the broken pieces.

And honestly, that was about everything Jay needed to do.

They both had inner demons―that was a fact, and just as many nights as Jay had spent soothing a crying Carlos back to sleep were the days that Carlos had spent refraining him from doing something stupid he'd regret later, like stealing or saying heedless words, because just as much as he could ―and did― hold Carlos in a silent promise of support, Carlos had held his hand whenever a princess wearing a necklace shiny enough to capture his attention passed by in front of them, whenever one of those pampered princes spoke about something that they didn't know about.

Because they might have not known or understood a thing about love or care, not before Auradon and not even then when they actually lived there, but if love felt as good as the Auradonians said it was, then Jay could honestly say that such a thing was what he felt when he was with Carlos, that security, that feeling of belongingness, that peace.

And, while it was something bizarre to say, as long as he had Carlos by his side, Jay didn't mind the inner demons that he had to fight as a regular basis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, this is the end of this little something, if you actually enjoyed it (which I kind of hope), thank you very much for getting this far! At the end, of course, I went for a cheesy conversation because these two cinnamon rolls deserve the happiness, alright?
> 
> If you want to read something with a similar theme please don't hesitate to let me know your opinions in the comments! And if you want to read something very, very awesome, feel free to go check out a story called "Nothing in This World But Myself to Protect Me", by thatoneshippyblog. There are a lot of warnings there, but I'm sure you will love her story as much as I do!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Auradonian Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! We are here today to have more fluffy and shiny stuff with these two dorks we love so much! I promise you that the dark things are over (for this story), so please feel free to enjoy!
> 
> Very personally, I'm not a lover of soulmate AU's, but I have to admit that the image of these idiots was just hilarious.

Thursday-Soulmates  
Auradonian Habits

To say that love wasn't often spoken about in the Isle of the Lost unless it was to call it a weakness or be mocked at, of course, was an understandment. However, the concept of what 'love' meant was certainly different from the one people born and raised in Auradon had.

On one hand, the children taken out of the Isle and sent to Auradon had gotten used to the Fairy-Tale-Land pretty well, even if they still had to fight away little habits like eating with cutlery or not lying. That was not it when it came to that infamous word—love.

Not surprisingly, the girls were the ones of the Rotten Four group to get the hang of it more easily, going as far as to have actual relationships with pure-hearted Auradonians. Sometimes, laughing or joking around, Jay would even fool himself into thinking that Mal and Evie were actually Auradonians themselves, impossible as that was.

He just couldn't get it, the way they could belong to this bright and perfect place yet still be the strong villains he'd met at the isle.

Truth to be said, there were also a thousand reasons other than that sentiment that the son of Jafar disliked of Auradon. For example, the incessant chirping of the birds and overly sweetly scent in the air.

He was also bothered by how both girls pretended not to notice either of the previous things when he brought the matter up.

"I'm telling you, it's like they follow me around singing and chipping like I'm freaking Cinderella!" he complained as he took a seat on the bench the girls and Carlos were already occupying.

"And we're telling you there are no birds here!" Mal replied, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "Look for yourself!"

"C'mon, you cannot not listen it!" Jay counterattacked, although the daughter of Maleficent and the daughter of the Evil Queen merely shook their heads playfully, and Carlos was far too into his Astronomy book to mind their conversation.

—*—*—

Little did the son of Jafar know, however, that all of the girls' conversations with Lonnie and Jane were finally paying off. And is that thanks to Auradon's cheesiness ran the rumor that whenever you were close to your soulmate the birds sang a little louder and your favorite scent hung in the air.

It was stupid and none of the girls had ever felt such a thing, not even when with their significant others, but it was still terribly amusing to make fun of Jay because of that.

—*—*—

It stopped being only fun to become just astonishing when barely two days after the incident with the birds and the former thief Carlos stopped his conversation with Evie in a sudden way very unlike him as they caught up with Jay and Mal after Cut and Confection class, claiming that he could smell chocolate close by but could not see it.

Smirking, the girls shared a knowing glance.

It was also terribly hilarious how Carlos' face fell whenever Jay was out of his sight radius because 'That someone with the hot chocolate had walked away' and how Jay was glad the birds' chirping stopped but asked Carlos to not leave and thus ended up complaining about the catchy tune yet again.

Who knew, the girls laughed as they nudged each other enjoying themselves, for once, like the sixteen-year-olds they were, maybe one day those two dorks would come to realize what they felt for each other.

After all, these Auradonian habits really were catching up to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did my first Soulmate AU go, then? Good, bad, enjoyable at least? Please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Read you tomorrow!


	5. Best Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little one-shot was also super fun to write! I laughed and I made fun of myself and of my lack of creativity because, to be honest, I always manage to mess up things! XD
> 
> I hope you have as much fun as I did while reading!

Friday-Secret Admirers

Best Intentions

If there was one thing both Jay and Carlos agreed on apart that hot chocolate was great, that surely was that, innocent as she looked, there was more than just a mischievous streak to Evie, which only incremented when she hung around Mal, the daughter of the Mistress of Evil, for crying out loud.

Jay and Carlos knew that very well, although they discovered the girls could take that to a whole different level during the first Valentine's Day they spent on Auradon.

Of course, the girls wouldn't get involved in things that weren't their business without a plan, much less being obvious about what they were scheduling to do. They hadn't taken Evil Schemes and Nasty Plots for nothing, after all, and thus Evie and Mal were actually very prepared for when the marked date appeared.

It all started because Auradon, cheesy and corny as it was had the wonderful tradition of putting mailboxes on the door of the dorms during the whole week before Valentine's Day so that the owners of the room got to know how much they were liked and cherished.

The whole celebration and letters wasn't even about love or romantic interests, not really, as it also included friendship in itself and peace wishes. Apologies letters were also a chosen favorite.

To be honest, the Isle children were not expecting much, maybe a couple of letters from Lonnie or Jane and a card from the Fairy Godmother―which was fine by them, as far as they were concerned, because they still didn't fully understand the whole point of the tradition and therefor wouldn't be sending letters to each other.

Big was Jay's surprise, however, when he started receiving messages in white sheets of paper with the impression of tiny paws spread along the edges signed by 'Carlos de Vil' that read several things along the lines of 'I'd liked you since we were on the Isle'.

Rolling his eyes, all the son of Jafar could do was keep the letters and hope Carlos didn't find them.

—*—*—

On his side, Carlos did the exact same thing, limiting himself to sigh with resignation and a head shaking in disapproval when he started getting bright red sheets of paper with elaborated declarations of love signed by the son of Jafar.

Seriously, this was going a step further.

—*—*—

And while it was nice to have a full mailbox for the occasion, while it could have been a pleasant surprise to actually receive something with so meaningful words, Jay had been around Mal just the exact amount of time to recognize the way her letters leaned on to the right side when she wrote and resembled minuscule ants scattered across the paper more than of words, just like Carlos had studied alongside Evie long enough to know how instead of putting a period on top of the 'i's' she drew a tiny heart on top over them.

The boys were also plenty intelligent to notice that what they were receiving wasn't the dirty handwriting of the person they shared a room with, but the neat and cared for works of their fellow former villainesses.

Sincerely, the girls needed to stop trying to get them together. That was simply not happening.

—*—*—

It wasn't until the very Thursday, a day shy of Valentine's Day, that they received something other than the white and red letters of the previous days.

The letter of that day wasn't scented, the writing wasn't neat and the sheet of paper wasn't a colored, but rather a stripped one ―not enough to make the written work on it straight, though― that oh-so glaringly had been ripped from a notebook, and instead of an eloquent speech about the itemized affection it only held a simple 'I like you'.

And it was also genuine. Real.

Alright, alright, maybe the girls had hit the nail on the head for once, Jay had to admit awkwardly, fond as he was of the Auradonian-like giggles they sent whenever they saw Carlos and him together or took note of how he circled Carlos' shoulder and ruffled his hair, even after they officially became boyfriends.

Perhaps, after all, nothing could be perfect and, to be honest, the former villainesses truly only had the best intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Corny, cheesy? You know I have that stuff to spare! If you've followed me up until know, I want to say thank you! You are all beautiful people!
> 
> Thanks for coming this far and... read you soon!


	6. Equal Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, the sixth and last week of the Jaylos Week, I hope this story makes a good ending for my participation!

Saturday-Getting caught

Equal Love

If someone had ever said that things in the Fairy-Tale-Land were utterly perfect, then they had been either very naïve or lying.

No matter how good, how nice things were in Auradon mistakes were made, bad words were spoken, and something could always go wrong.

Although, if you came from the Isle of the Lost and had lived there you knew that, while something could go wrong in Auradon, it was never bad enough as for it to not have a repair.

Truth to be said, the Isle children had gone a huge way ever since their first arrival to Auradon, especially in what concerned to getting to understand love, even if they were still hesitant when showing it, always expecting to be mocked at or called weak for it.

On the other hand, while both Mal and Evie had started to date Auradonians shortly after their arrival, the male former villains had decided to go rather slowly, taking baby steps until finally deciding that, now that they were in a place where love and affection wasn't condemned, maybe they could give it a try, much for the girls' amusement.

Although, even if both the daughters of the Evil Queen and Maleficent had assured the boys that they could start a relationship and that no one would bat an eye at it or at the fact that they were both males several times, they had decided not to risk it, not at the time, anyways.

It wasn't that they didn't want to make their relationship public, Jay had explained to Mal at some point, but Carlos was just starting to feel secure at Auradon, and it would have been a cold day in Hell before he let anything shake that security from the son of Cruella, let alone something as silly as letting everyone in Auradon know something that was still as meaningful if only the four of them possessed such information.

Of course, that, especially when they were around, something had to go wrong with that plan.

It was an accident, a slipping, almost too small to be important or even noticed. Except that it was.

Ever after Ben's coronation followed by Maleficent's defeat, the five of them had acquired the habit of studying together, mainly because now that their stay at Auradon was something permanent instead of merely temporal, Ben was determined to have them keep up with the classes better than ever. Not that the four former villains wouldn't have managed on their own, but this way he also got the plus of spending time with Mal.

The accident that made everything crash and burn was during one of those afternoon meetings, when Evie let slip the fact that Jay and Carlos were dating.

Ben, born and raised to be king did not miss the usage of words, although he was too caught up by surprise to realize that if he hadn't heard anything about it then it probably would be wiser to pretend he hadn't noticed right then either. On the other side, all he found himself able of doing was blink back in confusion, which, of course, made the blue-haired girl dwell on her mistake.

"So, you two are together, like, together, together?" the young king asked, connecting the dots while he turned to Jay and Carlos.

"I… we…" Carlos stuttered, stiffening under the playful chokehold of the former thief that was rapidly turning a tight hold.

And just like that Mal, Jay and Evie, who had been lazily laying on the dorm's beds ―on Mal's the girls and on Evie's the boys― were suddenly brought to their feet, daring him, daring him to say something impropriate, something against any of them, to utter something hurtful.

Mal's eyes shone with a fierce gleam and by the way Evie bit her lower lip it was easy to see how she was not only the pretty face people often mistook her for, but a ferocious defender of anything she considered right or held dear.

Oh, and Jay―Jay practically irradiated a barely withheld wrath as he looked down at the former prince, who was still sitting on the floor of the room, in the place that both beds left empty. The son of Jafar's gaze murderous.

The sight, far from terrifying like it would have been under normal circumstances, made Ben smile. It was amazing, sincerely astonishing and halfway between heartbreaking and heartwarming how close those four had become, how dependent from each other, how much they relayed on someone that had been called their rival not so long in the past.

Raising his hands in surrender as he brought himself to his feet, Ben couldn't help but laugh, and though it wasn't mocking like the former villains in front of him were somewhat expecting, it still made Mal's and Jay's scowl deepen.

"Guys, relax, it was just a question. If you don't want me to know, then that's fine, too" he offered, with an easy smile, stretching out his right hand to Jay in an attempt to make peace and amend his error.

"What do you mean?" the son of Jafar replied, with an expression that had yet to lose its stormy appearance, even when the tension in his shoulders had eased the tiniest bit.

"Hey, I get it" he assured softly. "You're worried about this new experience and that's fine. It's different and you're scared you'll do something wrong" Ben explained, shooting a glance to Mal before directing to Carlos. "But I can assure you that it's alright, everything is alright".

"Are you saying that us… us two, for being… you know, like… It isn't―?" the son of Cruella ventured, not going too far before his own stuttering forced him to stop.

However, neither Ben nor the others needed any more words to understand what Carlos meant, and while the boy's friends stiffened further, Ben's kind smile only turned winder and fonder as he shook his head in a slow motion, almost to emphasize his action and future words.

"Auradon cherishes love, Carlos" he started, reaching for the boy's shoulder with his left hand while he silently prayed Jay didn't perceive his movement as a hazard. "And all love is equal".

"Do you mean it?" Mal inquired with a raised eyebrow, too old to trust someone's words that easily, even if they were Ben's.

"With Auradonian pride*" the former prince replied, not seeming taken aback by the question.

As the very menacing people in front of him suddenly let go of a sigh they didn't seem quite aware they had been holding before becoming somewhat normal teenagers once more, Ben dedicated one last reassuring nod to Carlos and Jay, turning to the daughter of Maleficent so he could circle her shoulders, relieved that the girl didn't even try to jerk away anymore.

She didn't look hazarding anymore, her expression didn't hide a jeopardy or a murderous gaze. She just seemed slightly confused, maybe even a bit perplexed.

In all honesty, he wasn't mad at her for not having trusted him right away; far from that, he felt proud. This was her family, the one she had willingly chosen, the one that had readily taken her in and it didn't matter to Ben that she would have preferred their happiness over Auradon, over him. The mere fact that she was protecting something ―let alone someone― with that fierceness was enough to make the king of Auradon feel thankful that he had managed to free those people from the Isle of the Lost.

When the five of them resumed their previous seats as if nothing had happened ―Mal now comfortingly placed next to Ben in his spot on the floor―, the former prince couldn't help but feel at ease. Yes, he had just been threatened by those guys, yes, he knew that, as a matter of fact, they could be dangerous, but he understood their reaction, he could put himself in their shoes, get how it was hard to believe his words. He could do that much, he owned them that much.

After all, who was he to judge, when his own relationship with Mal had been highly criticized not so long in the past before people in Auradon understood he wasn't changing his mind on her? Who was he to throw a fuss over something that he had assured was the only thing that kept the world spinning only because it was a bit different than expected?

Love was much more than the way a person looked or the gender you felt attracted to. Love was much more than the wrong sayings you've been told by others or the happy moments you spent with your significant other.

Love was being together in the tough times, sharing, not only dreams and goals, but fears, nightmares, passions, secrets, too. Love was a silent pledge of support, a vow of protection that needed no more recognition than the one it got from the couple.

And, in the end, what he'd said was true, in Auradon and everywhere else―all love was equal, no less wonderful, no less valuable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? Every fandom needs that one fanfiction writer that messes things up and throws some angst on the favorute-gay couple and I'm here to take that place! However (all of those who have read my Percy Jackson stories know it full-well), I'm growing tired of the "It's okay to be who you are" and "I love you, no matter the sex that attracts you" conversation, and thus I decided to just be objective—love is love and Auradon loves it so, who cares?
> 
> So, here we are, this is officially the end. *wipes a tear* With a heacy heart and wistful thoughts we must say good bye and—what am I doing, don't worry, I promise you you'll see more Jaylos soon enough! XD
> 
> I want to give a huge shoutout to everyone who read, followed and reviwed! Thank you very, very much! It's only because of awesome people like you that I continue doing what I do!
> 
> *1: Yes, yes, that was a pride pun. C'mon, we both know you needed that in your life!

**Author's Note:**

> Now, this is the end of it! I hope you like it, and if you did, please feel free to follow this story because, for the rest of the week, I will be publiching a new one-shot daily!
> 
> Just so you know, the stories I will be publishing for this event, are not related to each other in the least. Every single one of them is merely a one-shot thought for the occasion.
> 
> Read you soon and I love you!


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